Mine To Keep
by music.means.love
Summary: "I didn't ask for his attention, I didn't want his attention...but now everything was changing, and he was the only constant in my life." When Violet is suddenly thrust into the world of vampires, a certain vampire beckons her with open arms...
1. The Start Of The Race

**Mine To Kee****p**

Chapter One: The Start Of The Race

_I don't need you to tell me that I'm alright  
>There's something in the air<br>There's something in the water dragging me down__  
>We never made it to the start of the race<br>I guess I thought that in the end we would be saved  
>Like there's someone up in the sky looking down over me<em>

_Charlie Simpson - Cemetery_

The rustic red analogue clock informed that it was precisely thirteen minutes past ten o'clock at night. I groaned. It felt like I had been working for _hours_! And yet it had only been a measly hour and thirteen minutes since I had entered the small bar under the flashing blue neon sign that read _Benji's_ and slipped behind the worn out mahogany bar. The bar had been completely dead all night; with the exception of a few lone stragglers drowning their sorrows in their liquor based drink of choice. It wasn't surprising though, the lack of customers. It was a Tuesday night and Tuesday night's had and always would be slow moving.

I had worked at _Benji's_ for a little over a year now and I loved my job. Friday and Saturday were always heaving, if you were behind the bar it was like you were being surrounded by a pack of rabid wolves. But time always moved faster that way; and it was better when three or four of you were working and you could have a laugh. I always worked Tuesdays alone and they were the most dullest experiences anyone could ever live through. The bar closed at three o'clock in the morning; only five more hours until I could go home to my cosy studio apartment and sleep throughout the few remaining hours of the night. Then it would be up and off to college where I would sit behind a desk and stare blankly out of the window whilst pretending to listen to my Ancient History professor.

I aspired to be an archaeologist, I had always been fascinated in the lives and cultures of those before my time and what better way to learn about them than to dig them up and study them first hand. But Lately, for reasons unknown, had started to become a tad disenchanted with the whole thing. So much so that about a month ago, I had seriously considered dropping out...but the voice of reason controlled any reckless behaviour that might have made that decision. I could change my mind about what I wanted to do with my life _after_ I graduated.

I knew that I wanted to travel; see the world for what it was and experience everything that it had to offer. My mother had always said that I was a 'restless spirit'. That I was never happy unless I was moving somewhere new. I guessed that that was why I had grown tired of college, I had been in LA for three years and nowhere else. Mom had moved me around all the time when I was younger. The longest we had stayed in one place was eight months in New York but when my mom had broken up by her newest flame, we soon packed up and scarpered the big apple. I had never complained once though, as I said before; I _loved_ the change of location. Then, when I graduated High School in Washington, I enrolled in UCLA and ventured out on my own; I was always happiest in the sun.

Mom and I shared the odd phone call but apart from that, we were happy living our own separate lives. It wasn't that we didn't love each other or anything; we were just both really independent people who didn't _need_ someone familiar to talk to seven times a week. I really was independent; I paid for all my college fees, paid my rent, never asked my professor for help and I was quite content living by myself. Don't get me wrong, I had friends, plenty actually...but I couldn't _live_ with them...I'd probably end up killing them just for some time alone.

So there I was, leaning against the once shiny mahogany bar surface and willing time to move faster. I wore a tight black tank top with the word 'Benji's' written in white italic writing, a pair of faded grey skinny jeans and my usual black high top converse. Rick, the manager, wasn't exactly strict on attire; as long as you were wearing the top, anything else was acceptable. My neon blue painted fingernails drummed rhythmically to a tune in my head against the bar surface and my body rested on my elbows. I was bored stiff, there was only so many time that you could clean every single glass in the bar before you lost the will to stay alive.

There was one customer in the bar; a regular named Jonah. He came into _Benji's_ almost every night without fail, an ex alcoholic who always ordered a neat scotch and stared at it for half an hour before tipping generously and leaving the scotch untouched. I knew from his body posture and calloused hands that he worked manual labour, from his lack of weeding ring that he was not married but from the picture that he kept in his wallet, he used to be. I had always been perceptive and had always been exceptionally talented at reading people. My mother had always used me to judge any possible new boyfriend and give her detailed feedback. She never listened to any bad judgment.

"I think I'll be off now, Violet." Jonah stood up from his bar stool and pulled out his wallet. "I'll see you on Thursday," He made no false pretences that he wouldn't be there when I was working my next shift.

"Get home safe, Jonah." I smiled, a gesture in which he returned before turning and walking towards the door. I grabbed the bills that he had left on the bar and turned to the tip jar. I heard the bell above the door chime as Jonah exited the bar and began counting the tip he had left. I wasn't surprised at the abnormally large tip that I slipped into the tip jar that would be shared out between me and the four other bar staff at the end of the week. I turned back to the bar and gasped loudly. "_Jesus_!"

He was seated where Jonah had been sat not a minute prior. One elbow was propped up on the counter while the other hand placed his plain black leather wallet on the bar. He wore a dark blue v neck which failed to hide the impeccable muscles beneath the thin material and a silver watch was clasped onto his left wrist. Strands of his swept back dark hair fell into is equally dark eyes; eyes that were looking directly into mine. "I'm sorry," His voice was like velvet, rich and husky "I didn't mean to scare you."

I was stunned into silence for a split second; dazzled by the insatiable beauty of the rugged stranger who sat before me. "Oh, it's fine..." I blinked several times to ensure that he was really there and wasn't just a figment of my imagination. The vision didn't fade at all. "I just didn't hear you come in, that's all." My voice didn't stutter like any other girl's would have. I never seemed to have a problem with wearing a calm exterior. "What can I get for you?"

"Stella, you don't have to put it in a glass; I'll drink it from the bottle." Unusual, but not completely unreasonable.

"Sure," I turned and bent down to wear the refrigerators were. The bottle of Stella Artois was cold in my palm as I took it room the white shelf and turned around to place it on the counter before him. "That'll be three fif-" The money was already on the counter, her wore a smug smirk on his pale smooth lips.

"Cheers," He said as I slid the money off the counter and walked to the edge of the bar in order to use the cash register. "So..." My brow furrowed, was _he_ starting the small talk with _me_? "Is this place _always_ this busy?" He asked sarcastically, the smug grin still held firmly in place.

"Yeah, but tonight especially. I mean I can't even hear myself think." I played along as I leaned against the back of the bar opposite him.

He chuckled and the noise was so sexy that I almost melted.

"I bet it's busier at the weekend?"

"Yeah, it gets packed. It's better that way though, it keeps me busy and makes time move quicker."

"What time does this place close?" He asked before taking a swig from th green bottle in his hand.

"Three."

"And you're on your own until then?"

"Yep, it's just me. But it's not like we're under staffed." I gestured to the empty bar stool next to him. I excused myself from the conversation then by walking around the bar and towards the empty tables that filled the room. I began pushing already perfectly placed chairs under the tables and plumping up the cushions in the booths.

"What's your name?" His velvet voice suddenly sliced through the comfortable silence that had been established and I turned back to see that he had swivelled on his chair and was looking directly at me, something he had been doing since the moment he entered the bar.

"Violet, how about you? I answered as I walked back to my spot behind the bar.

"Jerry, it's a pleasure to meet you." He leaned over the bar and held out his pale hand, his skin smooth like marble.

"Likewise," I pushed my body off of the counter and extended my arm to meet his grasp. His hand was cold, probably from the icy bottle and his skin was so smooth that it was like I was clutching a piece of silk. I pulled my hand away from his as soon as I felt the cool skin of his thumb gently graze over the back of my hand. I really was never one for touching. It's not like I was a prude or anything; it's just that my strongest belief had always been that public displays of affection were always better kept behind closed doors. "So, _Jerry_... what do you do for a living?" I recited a point from the small talk techniques written on the bulletin board in the staff room. "It can't be as exhilarating as my fast lane career?" He chuckled again and my stomach grew all warm and tingly.

"Actually, your career is a _lot_ more exciting than mine...I work from home; I make computer programmes." That surprised me and the look on my face told him so.

"Wow, that's a shock. You really don't look like the type to be sat behind a screen all day."

"Well, what 'type' _do_ I look like?" He raised one dark eyebrow and into a perfect arch.

"Hmmm, a security manager maybe? Or a bodyguard?" He smirked.

"Those both require little intelligence, are you implying that my mental ability isn't hitting average?"

"No, not at all." I pushed a few loose strands of my long dark hair behind my ear. "I'm just saying that you look like you could hold your ground in a fight."

"Are you usually good at reading people?"

"_Usually_, I'm great at it. It's all about perception; picking up on the little oblivious clues that people drop."

"And what about me? What careless hints did _I_ leave lying around?" He leaned forward as if intrigued to hear my judgement of him.

"Well... you're wearing a Rolex which means you aren't exactly short of cash. You're not wearing a ring and there are no photos in your wallet which probably means you're single and aren't close with your family _and_...you knew how much the beer was without me telling you which means you've been here before. I'd bet more than once too, even though I've never seen you." I smiled when I finished my perfect evaluation. I couldn't tell from his face if what I'd said was true or not.

"Incredible; you should join the force or something. I'm sure you'd be a much appreciated necessity to the LAPD." He seemed impressed.

"Na, I'm way too judgemental for that." I answered honestly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm really closed minded. I struggle with seeing he 'two sides to every story'. If you kill someone and you're not sorry that you did it? There's no place for you on earth." His brow creased when I said that.

"What if they had good reason? What if they _had_ to?"

"Self defence is completely different from cold blooded murder."

"I don't mean that; what if they _needed_ to kill to survive?" His eyes had turned serious and had lost the humorous sparkle.

"If they think that it's acceptable to kill an innocent person to keep their life then they don't deserve the life they want so much to protect."

We silently stared at each other for a few moments; our words swimming in the air around us as we thought about their meanings. "You're not like anyone I've ever met before." He suddenly interrupted the silence with words that I could tell he really meant. "You're different...and you should stay that way forever."

"I intend to," I shrugged and noticed that his bottle was empty. "You want another beer?"

"No, I need to be heading off." He stood up from his bar stool and threw a few notes on the counter. "Here."

"Have a good night," I said courteously.

"I'm sure I will. See you later, Violet." And with that he turned on his heel and was gone. I sighed as I hoped that he really would see me again. It was then that I noticed the notes on the table, or rather how _many_ of them there were. Jerry had tipped _two hundred dollars_! It wasn't a mistake. _No one_ made that kind of a mistake. I placed the money in the tip jar, still astounded and unbelieving. I glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that Jerry and I had been chatting for over two and a half hours! What the hell? Time seemed to have just vanished when I was speaking to him.

Whatever the case; I knew that I wanted to see him again.

~x~

Little under three hours later, I found myself locking all the liquor away, locking the main entrances to the bar, turning off all the lights and turning over the sign that read 'open' to 'closed'. I grabbed my khaki parka and pulled it on before throwing my brown leather satchel over my shoulder and vacating the premises via the back door which I locked behind me. After looking around for any unwanted observers, I moved a loose brick from the wall to the right of the door and hid the keys there; careful to put the rock exactly where it was prior.

I didn't particularly mind the ten minute walk home; it gave me time to think about things...and today my head was filled with thoughts about the beautiful and evasive Jerry. had made a promise to myself that if I ever saw him again the I would give him my number. I hadn't met a guy that I liked in _ages_. My last boyfriend and I broke up over five months ago and I hadn't really dabbled in the world of romance since. It wasn't because I was heartbroken or anything. In fact, it was _me_ who broke up with _him_. It's just that finding 'true love' hadn't exactly been my first priority. That was why I ended it with him; I valued other things above him and that's not something that you can call 'love'. It wasn't fair to keep him waiting in the wings.

I pulled out a cigarette, sparked up and began walking down the alley that would lead to the main street and the quickest route home. The booming bass line from the inner walls of the night club just around the corner caused a gentle vibration to jump up onto the soles o my feet as I walked; the only light being a dull and dingy street lamp that had seen better days. On Fridays and Saturdays, the bar staff and I would usually enter the night club and drink the rest of the night into oblivion and dance until our feet bled. Then I would stumble home at eight o'clock in the morning and sleep the rest of the day away before waking up with the hangover from hell and several blind spots in my memory. I didn't mind though; a headache the morning after was a sign that the night before had been brilliant.

"Turn around and give me the purse!" Oh _Shit_!

I slowly turned around to face the gruff voice that commanded me to do its bidding, my cigarette dropping to the ground. A sudden swarm of nausea came over me as I saw the twenty something year old bearded man who was pointing a rather sharp and shiny looking blade at my bare throat. My mind raced through what I had in the bag: my phone, forty bucks, gum, keys to my apartment: all easily replaceable items. But then I remembered that in the zip pocket of the bag was a photo; a photo of me and my dad. The only photo I had of him before he died.

"Okay; you can have the bag... just _please_ let me get a photo out of it; you can have everything else, I swear."

"There isn't a _fuckin'_ pick n' choose option, lady! _Hand over the fuckin' bag!"_ The hooded man seethed and shook the knife at me. I _couldn't_ lose that photo; I just _couldn't_.

"_Please_! It's the only thing I have of my Dad!" Great; now I was spilling out my family history to a man threatening my life. Nice one, Violet.

"You think I give _shit_? _Hand over the fuckin' bag now!"_I held the bag to my chest defensively and attempted to back away quickly. "_Fine_! If that's how you wanna play it?" The man grabbed my arm preventing me from budging even an inch and drew back the lade; ready to strike. I closed my eyes as I struggled even though it was pointless. At five foot five, I was hardly a master of self defence. I waited for the blow; the first searing cut that would lead to my painful and untimely death.

I felt nothing.

"What the fuck?" I heard my attacker shout and opened to my eyes to see that it was no longer just the bearded mugger and I in the alley. I watched as the dark figure launched the mugger away from me and then hurled himself at the mugger.

Then something that could not have possibly happened; happened.

The dark figure's mouth clamped down on the struggling man's neck and proceeded to suck the life out of him..._literally_. Blood spilled from the man's veins and splashed onto the grubby ground beneath them as the shadow continued to lap up the wound. My hand covered my mouth automatically and I could feel my knees grow weak with freight. I _couldn't_ move. It was as if I was frozen on the spot. I _needed_ to see the act that was taking place. I _needed_ to wait until Ashton Kutcher jumped out from behind a dumpster and told me that I'd been well and truly _Punk'd_. I wanted to scream, but sheer undiluted terror prevented the sound from leaving my throat. Instead it stayed there and festered as I watched the brutal scene depicting before me.

The mugger fell to the ground; limp and lifeless.

The dark shadow had finished with him.

I watched in horror as the figure turned around slowly. Gleaming red fangs slowly retracted until they blended in with the rest of his razor sharp teeth. His eyes were darker than before; they were pitch black. Even what was meant to be milky white was now as black as the pupil. Blood stained his once marble skin and slowly trickled down his neck onto the same blue v neck shirt he had worn not three hours prior. His long nails slowly retreated back to his normal length and his eyes slowly faded back to their 'normal' dark shade.

"Hey," Jerry said cheerfully like we were the best of friends and I _hadn't_ just witnessed him murder someone by drinking heir blood like a...I couldn't even bring myself to _think_ it. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. "I believe the term you're looking for is 'thank-you'." He smiled as he used the back of his hand to wipe his chin. He took a step forward and I scrambled backwards; my eyes wide with terror. He smirked and licked his teeth.

I ran.

I ran as fast and as far as I could not looking back even once to see if he was following me. Turning a corner, I saw _The Warehouse_: the night club that had grown louder and louder with every metre that I ran. Not even thinking about my actions; I pulled out my driver's license from my parka pocket and the four dollar entry fee. I practically _threw_ the money at the beefy bouncer who barely even glanced at my ID before letting me past. I was a well known face to all the bouncers.

Inside, the white strobe lighting made it impossible to think straight. I was grateful for it; I couldn't handle processing any of my thoughts just yet. The music was beautifully loud; it forced me to believe that what I had just seen was a figment of my imagination and nothing more. I kept my bag clutched close to my side as slowly, I barged and squeezed through the crowd of half naked, sweaty bodies and eventually reached the dark and seclude couches in the corner of the club where couples were crawling all over each other. I found an empty black leather loveseat and sat down, quickly pulling out my iPhone.

I tapped in 911 but then I hesitated. What was I going to say? _'Hi there, I just saw a fucking vampire drain the blood from a hobo who tried to kill me'_? They'd just laugh in my face. So who then? My Mom No chance; she'd just think I was high again, it wouldn't be the first time. I ran through my contacts until I came to the obvious choice and hit the dial button.

"Violet?" The familiar voice soothed me almost immediately: I may not have loved him but I definitely cared for him.

"Nick? I need you...I'm in trouble." I choked out.

"Where are you?" Nick truly was a gift from God; he never asked questions. I informed him of my location and he set off immediately with an estimated time of arrival within fifteen minutes. That was fine...I was a big girl; I could handle fifteen minutes alone with a psycho killer on the loose. I'd just chill here and wait it ou-

"Man; I love this place. They actually play _decent_ music,"

My stomach caved in on itself.

My jaw locked as I slowly turned to my right to see Jerry sat next to me nonchalantly; one arm slung over the back of the couch behind me and the other tapping away to the rhythm on his dark jeans. Once again, I found myself frozen to the spot and unable to form any plausible coherent thoughts.

"I'm sorry that I didn't get here sooner; had to dispose of the garbage," He smiled his sly smile and curled his lip slightly in order to show off those gleaming teeth which he had use to rip into the now deceased mugger. My stomach churned when he referred to the man he had just slaughtered as 'garbage'. He raised one eyebrow at me and looked me straight in the eye. "Well? Haven't you got anything to say to the guy who just saved your life?" he chuckled and looked around like he was looking for people to agree with my supposed 'ungratefulness'.

"Are you going to kill me?" It came out as barely a whisper but I could tell by the sudden darkening of his chiselled features that he heard every syllable perfectly.

"Don't be stupid, Violet." He scolded and moved closer. I shrank in my seat. "Why would I go through all the trouble of saving your life if I was just going to up and kill you?" He smiled again and a shiver ran down my spine. "I just want to talk to you..." He trailed his eyesight down my body suggestively before meeting my eyes with his small fangs glinting in his smug smile. I wanted to tell him that I didn't _want_ to talk to him...but my fear overcame me.

"What do you want to talk about?" I mumbled, never breaking his gaze.

"I want to talk about _you_." He smirked and I was so scared that I would have accepted a quick death right then just to get out of that situation. "You see, you _interest_ me, Violet Summers." How the _fuck_ did he know my full name? "I've been watching you; the way you move, the way you talk...the way you never show your true emotions...I'm curious about you."

He reached out his marble hand to touch my face but I jumped up from the couch as quickly as possible and darted into the dancing crowd. I was too hot, and I knew that it was easy to spot me in my parka so I grabbed my phone from my pocket and shrugged out of my coat quickly, discarding it on the floor. I checked the time on my phone as I moved through the crowd, I had a maximum of eight minutes until Nick came and took me away. I had just reached the centre of the dance floor when I felt a cold hand gab my wrist. Before I knew what was happening, I was spun around and standing so close to him that our chests were touching. I looked up into his black eyes and attempted to gulp down the lump in my throat.

"You know, it's _rude_ to just up and leave when someone's trying to have a conversation with you...it kind of gives me the impression that you're not interested in me..." He whispered huskily as he took my throat in one of his steely vice like grips. "And that would be insulting, since I am _so_ interested in you." He breathed in deeply as if inhaling my scent. It took me a few moments to realise that that was more than likely _exactly_ what he was doing. "I can't resist you," He eyed me hungrily "I just need...a _taste_." His eyes were fully black now and no matter how hard I struggled, the iron cage he had crated around me with his arms was impossible to budge.

He gently yet commandingly tilted my head to the side and swept my long dark hair behind my shoulders before hovering just above the base of my neck. "Stop fighting...you might enjoy it." Those were the last words I heard before his teeth ripped through my skin and the pain stabbed at me like a hot and sudden burn.

And then I fainted.

~x~

**Hey guys, **

**So I watched Fright Night the other day and completely fell head over heels in love with Jerry! Don't really know where I'm going with this story but I'm open to suggestions. Please REVIEW as I love hearing from you and the next chapter should be up soon.**

**Lots of love,**

**musicmeanslove**


	2. So Much Sorrow

Chapter Two: So Much Sorrow

_And I knew you could never love me__  
><em>_I had so much sorrow inside you could never reach__  
><em>_But can I still keep__a place in your heart__  
><em>_There is something__I want you to know__  
><em>_I think you know exactly what it is__  
><em>_I didn't want to save you__  
><em>_I set our house on fire__to watch it burn__  
><em>_But I couldn't just leave you_

_Silverstein Feat. Lights - The End_

I didn't open my eyes when I awoke. Instead, I slowly took in my surroundings _without_ the use of sight. I was lying on silk. A silk mattress, no doubt, and silk sheets covered my body. I could hear a reporter's muffled voice speaking through a television set and the sheets smelled like musky cigarettes. I was still fully dressed, thank God. The only items missing were my shoes but my jeans and top still remained exactly where they had been the night before. That was good. At least Jerry hadn't _raped_ me or anything...and if he did; what dickhead puts a girl's clothes back _on_ after he's done the unforgiveable deed?

My memory had not been tampered with due to the whole 'blacking out' thing. I remembered all the night prior's events perfectly. I remembered the fear that had boiled in my veins; the slicing pain when he bit into my neck and the way his eyes had darkened so suddenly. I knew that I wasn't at home. I was a student; do you really think I could afford _silk_ sheets? In fact; I had _never_ led on a silk bed before. I had absolutely no _clue_ where I was...and when you know that without even opening your eyes; you know you're in trouble.

My eyelids fluttered open and I confirmed the fact that my surroundings were completely unfamiliar to me. I was in a bedroom; a beautiful modern bedroom with cream walls, black furniture and a thick golden carpet. The bed I was in was absolutely _huge_! I looked like I was drowning in the black silk sheets that were wrapped firmly around my body. The only window in the room had what appeared to be black spray paint preventing any light from getting in; the only light source in the room being the black bedside lamp to the right of where I lay.

Ever so carefully and quietly, I sat up and scooted myself off of the bed and tip toed towards the oak wood door in the corner of the room. I said I silent prayer before turning the knob and clicking the latch open. After pausing for a few moments to check that there were no repercussions to the noise I had made, I gently opened the door and slipped out of the beautiful bedroom. I was in a house. A minimally decorated modern house located God knows where. Creeping down the stairs, the television grew louder and louder until I peeked around the corner and saw the woman in blue talking about some sports crap on a flat screen plasma television set.

Jerry was facing away from me. He was sat in a leather armchair, his feet crossed before him on an oak coffee table and a bottle of Stella clutched in his hand. I could hear his soft and husky chuckle every now and then as he found whatever the hell he was watching amusing and I rolled my eyes; what vampire found humour in reality TV? It was now or never; I bolted towards the front door, careful to keep up my stealth the entire six feet that it took me.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The voice interrupted my celebratory thoughts just as I was an inch away from turning the door handle and escaping back to my freedom. I turned around quickly and saw that he was leaning against the wall next to the stairs directly behind me, his television programme long forgotten. He saw from the expression of sheer terror on my face that I wasn't able to form word and assumed that I would want to know _why_ I was trapped in the dark and dingy apartment. "The sun's out and in the state you're in; the second those rays hit you, you'll burst into flames." He took a bite from his apple nonchalantly and I envisioned ramming it down his throat.

What he said suddenly dawned on me and I clutched at my stomach to try and stop the horrid pain that was building there. "D-Do you mean?" I stuttered, unable to say the impossible word. "Am I...?" My eyes grew as wide as saucepans and he chuckled at my reaction, insensitive prick.

"No...not _yet_, anyway." He did his weird 'curl back lip' smile. I furrowed my brow in confusion and he sighed, running a pale marble hand through his dark and beautifully unkempt hair. "You've been fed from once, which means that you're in the transitional stage. Just one drop of my blood..." He smirked, "and the transformation would be complete."

I didn't understand. Why hadn't he just _turned_me? Or just killed me? What purpose did I possibly have for him? He took another bite from his apple and swallowed slowly, eying me carefully the entire time. "Why didn't you just kill me?" I whispered, my vision dropping to the oak hard wood floorboards. I _needed_ to know, _needed_ to discover the truth behind his obviously devious motives.

"Because, Violet..." He leaned closer as if about to reveal the biggest secret known to mankind "Where would be the fun in that?"

"What are you going to do to me?" He chuckled lowly again.

"Nothing at all; unless you want me to..." He cocked his head suggestively.

"What does that even mean?" I squinted my eyes at him in a confused manner.

"Why all the questions, Violet? I thought it was 'all about perception'?" He quoted what I had said the previous night in the bar and I cringed at the memory of a time when I had looked at him with desire and lust. He saw that I wasn't going to answer him and he shook his head, smiling to himself. "What it _means_, Violet...is that whatever you want; you will receive."

"I _want_ to leave!" I hissed at him and he raised his eyebrow in a warning manner. I backed down immediately.

"When the concept of what you _want_ disagrees with what you _need_; _I_ will make the judgement call." He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. "You go outside that door and you die."

"Why do you even _care_ what happens to me?" My jaw locked while I spoke and I acted as though I was still fighting my case but I slumped my shoulders against the realisation hit me that I couldn't win.

"Like I said... you _interest_me." He said it like it was the most simple explanation in the world.

"Interest you? _How_? I'm like the _least_ interesting person in LA!" I swallowed down the lump in my throat. I _refused_ to cry; no matter how dire the situation was. Crying connoted vulnerability and weakness; two traits I sure as hell would rather die than possess.

"That's an answer I'm still figuring out for myself..." He trailed off and observed me for a few moments, a faint smile tilting his lips slightly upward. He stayed that for a while before suddenly snapping out of his reverie and standing up straight. "You must be hungry; I left a couple of take away menus on the counter in the kitchen. You can have anything you like,"

"_Really_?" I feigned enthusiasm. "You're so _generous_?" I looked at him with distaste but that only caused to amuse him further. He wasn't going to hurt me...or at least not for a while. That meant that I could be as bitchy to him as I wanted. I was going for super bitch.

~x~

I ordered a plain cheese and tomato pizza. Well, I say _I_ ordered it but Jerry wouldn't let me use the phone so I simply pointed to what I wanted with a sour expression on my face. He left the room in order to place the order; probably so I wouldn't know where the apartment/prison was located. That had been over half an hour ago, and Jerry had since disappeared to God knows where. I didn't really care though; fingers crossed he'd accidentally slipped into a large spot of sunlight.

I currently sat on one of the large black leather armchairs that were a part of Jerry's little furniture collection. He was like the poster boy for the term 'minimalist'. His refrigerator contained nothing but beer and all of the cupboards were completely empty. The open kitchen was more of an ornamental feature rather than an actually room with a function. I had explored the small apartment and discovered that it was a one bedroom, one bathroom deal. It went without saying that I would _not_ be sharing a bed with the likes of _Jerry._ I'd rather sleep on top of the cold breakfast bar than share a mattress with a murderer.

It was obvious that the sun had gone down as Jerry had exited the apartment through the front door with no reservations as he locked the door behind him. I had spent a good six minutes attempting to pick the lock but to no avail; it was pointless. It was quite clear that I would _not_ be leaving the apartment until my captor saw fit and not a second sooner. I was still extremely wary of Jerry, and I despised him with all I was worth...but somehow I was no longer reserved around him. He had made it quite obvious that he had no intentions to hurt me, he didn't want me dead and he didn't want me turning into a...a...into whatever _he_ was. So I saw no danger in telling him _exactly_ how I felt about him at every occasion possible.

He laughed at all my snide remarks and cruel scowls and either hit me back with a witty retort or used his curl back smile and stared me out like I was a feature in a museum. That only caused to piss me off further and so the cycle repeated itself over and over again until I felt like tearing my hair out and spitting in his face just to get a decent reaction from him.

I had felt _disgusting_ after spending almost two days in the same clothes so after Jerry was gone; I discovered the shower and put it to good use. Not wanting to clean myself only to put back on my vile clothes, I stole a grey button up shirt and a pair of black boxer shorts that hid me mid thigh. I didn't care if Jerry would mind or not; I figured it was the _least_ he could do after drinking my blood and locking me in his apartment. I had always been the type of girl to make the best out of any situation that life threw at me.

The television was on and I was staring at the moving images but I wasn't really watching them. Nothing was registering in my mind as I stared blankly; my thoughts lost in my own misery. I had pulled my knees up to my chin and my arms formed a cage around them making me look like a pathetic and broken mentalist. I hadn't cried once, though and as long as that factor remained the same I didn't care how crap I looked. I heard the key in the latch before the turn of the door handle but I pointedly didn't look towards the oak wood door as it clicked open.

"Food's here," Jerry announced and I threw a slow cursory glance in his direction. As soon as I caught sight of him, I couldn't help but stare. He was holding a pizza box in one hand as promised but that wasn't what bothered me...it was the blood around his mouth and on his shirt that made my eyes bulge out of their sockets and my heart beat speed up noticeably. He looked down and seemed to realise what I was staring at and smiled a neighbourly smile. "Sorry about the mess, I just thought you'd want your pizza before I went and cleaned myself up."

"Oh, don't worry about it..." I remarked with sarcasm drenched in my voice "Did you kill them?"

"You should always kill them if you're not going to turn them; otherwise people start talking." He spoke to me like a teacher to a pupil as he placed the pizza box down on the counter. "Of course, people will just think they're crazy but if too many people suddenly start spouting off about Dracula; someone's going to notice eventually."

"Then why haven't you turned me?" He was contradicting e_verything_ he was saying by keeping me alive and keeping me human. He turned to look at me and his face had lost its usual smirk and had grown completely serious.

"Is that what you _want_?" He raised one eyebrow.

"_No_!" I spat out without hesitation as if the mere idea burned my tongue. He chuckled.

"And that's why I haven't done it." I hated how cryptic he was; almost like he _needed_ to know that I was thinking about it.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but you don't exactly seem the _type_ to let someone go just because they don't want it?"

"You're right; I'm not," He picked up an apple and took a bite from it, the juice making his lips shiny and moist. "But you're different." He walked closer to wear I was sat and crouched down to my eye level. "You see, one day, you're going to _beg_ for me to change you. You're going to _plead_ for this life and only when you ask me to do it straight out, will I grant your request."

"You're going to be waiting a _long _time." I meant every syllable.

"Who needs time when you've got forever?"

~x~

Jerry's words haunted me as I sat on the bed later that night. The concept of forever had always terrified me. Everything needed to have its end; everything needed to move on. But not Jerry. And not others the same as him. They were frozen. Unmoving; neither progressing nor retreating. They would never grow, would never change and would never move onto whatever the afterlife was. They were hopeless. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, no chance of a future; just a constant state of being that defied all possible laws. They would stare at the world through a window as it changed and revolutionised, would see countless generations live and die and would see humanity at its highest and at its lowest. Their existence could not be called a 'life'. They could _see_ life and would see life over and over again but they could never and would never be able to reach out and touch it.

Along with the pizza, Jerry had brought me back a bunch of things that I would need throughout my 'stay' with him, as he said it. I had to admit, it really was hard keeping a sour face when I saw that he had brought shampoo and conditioner, my hair had practically turned into oil and I put the items to use immediately. Along with other toiletries such as a toothbrush, toothpaste and moisturiser (something I absolutely could _not_ manage without), he also brought back some magazines, some films and a boom box for my iPod which I had forgotten was in my coat pocket. Jerry, the ever considerate, had managed to grab my parka from the floor in the club and bring it back to his prison. He told me that the stereo was only available to 'good music only'. I almost smiled at that, _almost._

I had been sat in the bedroom for a while reading a magazine. Jerry hadn't bothered me for a while so I assumed that he had gone out again; probably to kill some innocent bystander who in no way deserved the terrifying and gruesome end that they would meet. It was funny; I could think about Jerry's nature _without_ feeling sick now. It wasn't like I wasn't _completely_ against killing people or anything, _believe me_ that was not the case _at all_. It's just that after coming to the realisation that Jerry was _not_ going to hurt _me, _it sort of made the whole thing a lot less frightening, no matter how selfish that made me; it was the truth.

In some ways Jerry did _terrify _me...but not as much a fear of whether he would hurt me now. It was more a fear of what he was going to do when I was back to normal. Would he bite me and start the whole process again? Would he change his mind and suddenly rip my throat out? Would he ever leave me in peace? I highly doubted it. Something made me feel that Jerry was going to be a part of my life for a very long time. And by 'part of my life' I mean the annoying fly that follows you wherever you go.

Sighing, I flicked over the final page of the magazine before kicking my legs over the side of the bed and padding along to the door. It was only when I neared the kitchen that I heard that the television was on. Hesitantly, I slowly peeped my head around one of the many columns in the apartment and saw the back of Jerry's head as he watched some trashy reality TV show. I could hear him chuckling to himself and once I again I found myself melting into the sound before mentally slapping myself and walking towards the other armchair.

"I thought that you'd gone out?" I inquired as I plonked myself down on the arm chair, my legs automatically tucking up beneath my chin.

"Sun's up." He didn't even take his eyes off of the screen. For some reason, that fact alone bothered me far more than it should. I didn't make a snarky retort (although it was killing me not to). If he wasn't even going to _look_ at me then I certainly wasn't going to try and keep up conversation with the ignorant bastard. Instead, I lifted my back up from the chair and dug around until I pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. If he wasn't going to let me leave, he'd have to accept that my filthy habit would be entering his home. I placed the cigarette in between my lips and attempted to light it. It was clear that somewhere between being mugged and having my blood sucked; my lighter and committed suicide. If only my situation was that easy.

"Here," I turned to see Jerry looking at me with a lighter in his outstretched hand. I saw that he too had sparked up a cigarette and rolled my eyes knowing that I should have known that the route of all evil had a nicotine addiction just like the rest of us. I took the lighter and lit up my death stick and reached out to hand it back to him.

"Thanks," He grabbed the lighter and the tips of our fingertips grazed each other and a sudden wave of desire struck me literally out of nowhere. He wore his curl back smile as he saw my wide eyed reaction. That dick head _knew_ what had just happened. "_What_ have you done?" I hissed.

"Hey, it's not my fault that you find me incredibly attractive." I scoffed.

"No, really?" I was not amused. He sighed and rolled his eyes before leaning back in his seat and taking a drag from his cigarette.

"You're in the transitional stages." I moved my hands to show that he needed to emphasize. "If you were to drink my blood now, you'd become like me. Your body _knows_ that; it _craves _that." I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and he shook his head, his dark hair glimmering softly in the lowly lit room. "This isn't me just saying that you want me, it's your body's natural reaction to being drunk from: it needs to replenish the loss and since my venom is now in your veins; your body _knows_ that I can give it what it _needs_."

"What, so every time I touch you it'll feel like _that?_"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On how often you'll be touching me and what we'll be doing." He smirked. "I can promise you that _I _can make you feel a _whole_ lot better than _that_." He grinned devilishly.

"Is it so hard to believe that maybe I'm _not_ considering having sex with you?"

"You'll give in; your body knows what you _need_." He took another drag and flicked the ash in the glass circular dish in the middle of the coffee table.

"You're unbelievable," I shook my head and made a play of disgust.

"That kind of comes with the territory of being one of the 'undead'." I couldn't help but laugh lightly at his words; no matter how badly I wanted to remain cold and emotionless.

"You look beautiful when you smile." Jerry's voice took on a serious note as he stared me down. I would've taken it as a compliment if he wasn't practically _glaring _at me. "You should do it more often." He took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes never once leaving mine.

"I smile all the time _normally_." I reasoned.

"No you don't." He changed the television channel as he spoke. "You turn your lips upwards but you don't really _smile_. The happiness doesn't reach your eyes."

"And _you'd_ know that how, exactly? It's not like you've been watching me," I muttered the last part knowing that he would hear the words loud and clear. He raised his eyebrows and the penny dropped. "Oh my God, you've been _watching_ me? For how long?"

"It'll be three months in two days since the first time that I saw you," What the _hell_? Jerry had been watching me for all that time? I flashed through every memory I had of the past few months searching for his face but there was no hint of him anywhere. I should have been angry, but instead I felt suddenly self-conscious and utterly befuddled.

"But..._how_?" I whispered, my mind still crawling through possibilities. "How can you have been watching me for so long without me noticing?"

"Sweetheart, I'm a vampire. Stealth is my job description." The moment he said the word 'vampire', everything else blurred out. I hadn't heard him _say_ what he was until then. Hearing him calling himself out suddenly brought my world crashing down around me as the line between reality and fairytales disappeared.

"You really are a vampire aren't you," It wasn't a question; it was a statement. He nodded. "Tell me more about you: what are the rules? How old are you? How many..._vampires_ are there?"

"Whoa there, take it easy. One question at a time." He smirked.

"Okay...what are the rules?" I inquired eager to learn about this whole new species.

"There are no rules; only common sense." He flicked the butt of his cigarette in the ash tray and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "Kill who you want to kill, but tidy up after yourself. Two hundred years ago, things were different. There were no DNA tests or forensic scientists but now...now it is a possibility that the humans _could_ realize what was going on. Basically, the only law is that the existence of vampires _must_ remain a secret from the humans. You have to be careful not to get arrested too 'cause as soon as they take your photo, they'll realize you're something else entirely."

"You don't show up on a camera?" I didn't expect such an old stereotype to be true.

He shook his head. "Technically, we're dead and therefore we don't exist. We don't have a reflection, either." If he had no reflection, how the hell did he manage to look so _good_ all the time? I scolded myself mentally and reminded myself that he was a murderer. "To answer your other question; there are considerably less of us than there are of you but that doesn't matter...we could destroy all of you in a heartbeat if we didn't need your blood to survive." He spoke as though he wasn't even listening to his words; as if he had grown disinterested in the turn of conversation.

"And...how old are you?" I asked in a timid manner due to his new arrogant side.

"I've lost count...but I'm past four hundred." He shrugged nonchalantly and took a bite from his apple; his eyes glued to the flat screen. _Four hundred _years old! The things he must have seen! The places he must have been! I had to remind myself that he was an evil murderer just to stop the intense swarm of _jealousy_ that was swelling inside of me.

I didn't say anything else to him. We sat in a comfortable silence for half an hour before I un-tucked my legs from beneath me and retreated back to the bedroom. I assumed that the bed was for me as Jerry never said one word. It was only when I led my head on the silk pillow and turned off the bedside lamp that I realised something: although I was scared of Jerry, I hadn't felt threatened by him. The memory of the brutal murder of the mugger no longer seemed to bother me. That realisation terrified me to the very core.

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